


Sweet Words

by unlockthelore



Series: Affections Touching Across Time [1]
Category: InuYasha - A Feudal Fairy Tale
Genre: Domestic Fluff, Emotional Hurt/Comfort, Established Relationship, F/M, Love Confessions, Post-Canon
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-05-04
Updated: 2020-05-04
Packaged: 2021-03-02 05:21:25
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,903
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/23979649
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/unlockthelore/pseuds/unlockthelore
Summary: With their youngest daughter unable to sleep, Miroku finds the words to reassure her that even in sleep she is loved and protected.
Relationships: Miroku/Sango (InuYasha)
Series: Affections Touching Across Time [1]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1713493
Comments: 2
Kudos: 32





	Sweet Words

****Sweet Words** **

Miroku adored his children and all of their ways. From the mischievous games they’d concoct in a matter of minutes to their clamoring over him, asking for a story or a hug. It was a little strange to be needed so openly and earnestly by people who expected naught more from him than a pat, a word, and his presence. To them, he was simply Father.

Not a monk.

Not one of the heroes who felled the demon Naraku.

Just _father_.

And that was more than enough for him. All the riches, drink, and women in the world couldn’t compare to the simple pleasures of watching his children grow with the woman of his dreams at his side. 

Sango made him feel as if he were the richest man alive with every smile and backward glance. As crude as it sounded, to which he knew she would pinch his ear for, he would drink from her and never feel the need to go elsewhere. And in comparison to her, there was no woman who could match from her strength in body to character and all else. She was more than Miroku felt he deserved but he dedicated himself everyday to making her happy.

Which included putting their children to bed to give her a break.

While some men would turn their nose up at the idea of child-rearing, Miroku reveled in it. There was something hilarious about watching his children bicker over the story they would be told and where they would lay on the bedding big enough for five. Insisting that he fluff their pillows just a bit more or hold them a little longer. 

His oldest daughters, Chihiro and Yuiko, were in a bid for who got to sleep beside their only brother, Isshin. After a small mishap with a tengu on one of their trips, Isshin’s unrest and nightmares were concerning. He was steadily improving and able to sleep without waking in tears but his sisters recalled the worst of the nightmares and were hesitant to leave his side. 

Miroku watched from their bedside as the girls compared their strengths, and how fearless they were in face of a demon. The spitting image of their mother from their strength to their assuredness in being able to handle any threat, down to the sheer stubbornness that kept them arguing for the better part of a few minutes.

Isshin’s head was beginning to bob, his eyelids drooping as he started to drop off into sleep. And once the argument began to reach a fever pitch, Miroku clapped his hands together.

“Alright girls, that’s enough,” he said, raising a finger to his lips when they turned big brown eyes to him, arguments on parted lips. When they fell silent and gave him their full attention, he lowered his finger and began to speak. “You’ve forgotten that Isshin wasn’t the only one there. Hanako was too.”

Guilt flickered on their faces and between a shared glance, frantic movements as they searched the room for their youngest sibling and little sister. Miroku smiled a bit. Due to her size and craftiness, Hanako was able to hide almost _anywhere_ which made finding her somewhat difficult during games that lasted until sunset or when she didn’t want to be found. 

However, as impeccable as his children were to him, he _did_ know their shortcomings and loved them for it. His youngest daughter was quite noisy when she was distressed and sought comfort from the same person.

“Hanako is with your mother,” Miroku reassured, easing Chihiro and Yuiko on either side of their brother. Isshin giving him a sleepy smile of gratitude as he nestled between his sisters and let his eyes close. 

Chihiro and Yuiko snuck glances at Isshin to ensure that he was deep in sleep. Miroku, undoing his ponytail and carefully folding his robes for the next day, waited until the girls were settled. 

“Father,” Chihiro prompted, Miroku humming in response. “Will Hanako and Isshin be okay?”

Yuiko spoke next, her voice much quieter than usual. “They’re still really scared.”

He hesitated in setting his robes aside, rubbing the soft violet fabric between his fingertips. It was painful. Looking back at his daughters and seeing concern in their eyes. Concern that he had no easy word or way to assuage. Glancing down at Isshin, the slow rise and fall of his chest lending Miroku courage. 

A small smile tugged at his lips and he set his robes near the girls’ kimonos then settled on the other side of Chihiro. Enough space left on the futon for Sango, Hanako and himself, with the other three squashed in the center. There was a time where they could all fit seamlessly, and when he could hold them in the crook of his arms. But they were growing and enduring all of life’s challenges, his heart aching for them as he searched for the words.

Combing his fingers through Chihiro’s hair and mirroring the act in Yuiko’s, Miroku spoke softly as not to wake Isshin. “They will be fine, given time.”

“But why’re they still afraid?” Yuiko asked, her arm tucked around her brother’s shoulders, allowing him to bury his face against her chest and sleep soundly. “Mother got rid of it.”

Chihiro nodded, pride shining in her eyes along with the awe that Miroku often saw when she regarded Sango and her use of Hiraikotsu. “Yeah, it’s gone now so it can’t hurt them anymore and if it comes back…” Her voice trailed off and she shared a look with her sister. “We’ll beat it up.”

Miroku chuckled warmly, pressing a kiss to the top of Chihiro’s head then another to Yuiko. “As I’m sure you will.”

They were progressing well in their training. And while Sango wouldn’t allow them to go on _any_ missions until they were at least the age Kohaku was when he started, she was proud of them. Miroku could tell that it did her good to see the teachings of her father and clansmen live on, and oh he was so proud of her. Just as he was proud of his daughters.

But in moments such as this, Miroku knew that his words had to be picked carefully. These were words that his daughters would remember in their lowest times. When they looked back on their childhood, their thought of him, their _own_ fears and that of others, they’d think of what he said. Resting his right arm over them, Miroku propped his head up on his left hand and smiled down at them. 

“Fear…” His eyes fluttered as he mulled over the words, softly-spoken as he met their worried eyes. “isn’t something that goes away easily and it doesn’t always make sense.”

Chihiro’s brows furrowed and Yuiko frowned. Another approach then.

“It isn’t the tengu itself that Hanako and Isshin fear but the memory of that fear,” Miroku explained. “With time, they may be able to look past that memory but that will take patience, care, and love.”

This caught their attention, Chihiro sitting up as much as Miroku’s arm would allow and blurting out. “We love them.” She turned to Yuiko and nodded. “Right?”

Yuiko nodded clumsily, the tiredness showing in her eyes but the gleam of determination remained. Her hold on Isshin tightening just a bit and his responding grumble letting her know when to ease her hold. Miroku felt the corners of his lips twitch and the smile he wore grew. They really did make him proud to be their father. 

“I know you do,” he whispered breathlessly, quietly, pressing lingering kisses to their heads then settling with a sigh. “Now, what story do you both want to hear? No bickering now, your brother is sleeping.”

* * *

Fire burned low in the hearth casting a flickering coppery-orange glow over Sango as she cradled the sniffling girl in her lap. Combing her fingers through short dark-brown hair as she hummed gently, rocking back and forth with a weariness to her sigh. With the sound of Miroku’s story coming to a close and the gentle snores of their eldest daughters, she knew her window of opportunity was closing. 

“It’s alright, you can sleep.” Sango muttered into her daughter’s hair, rubbing circles between her shoulder blades, feeling the hiccuping begin anew. “I won’t go anywhere.”

It must have been a testament to her resilience that she’d managed to fight sleep for _this_ long. Whispers of Miroku’s voice as he held their youngest daughter for the first time, proudly stating that she had her mother’s resilience. At the time, it filled Sango with pride and embarrassment to see him smile so unashamedly. Now though, she felt the monk had jinxed them and felt pity for Hanako. 

Ever since the attack, her troubles with sleeping had only accentuated and Sango was running out of ideas on how to console her. Bitterness trapped on her tongue at the thought of what might’ve happened. She and Isshin were so young, even younger than she and Kohaku had been when they started learning but maybe wouldn’t have been a bad idea. 

“Well, what’s this…”

Almost as if he’d been summoned, Miroku stepped in the doorway. His eyes softened at the sight of Hanako’s quivering form. Hair down and a sleeping yukata in place of his usual robes, he seemed every bit of a normal man unbothered and still in the prime of his life. Yet like all else, his eyes gave him away. Steps slow and quiet as he came to Sango’s side and settled on his knees with one hand coming to lay atop Hanako’s head.

“Can’t sleep?” Miroku asked, voice soft with sympathy, his fingers threading in her hair.

Hanako’s sniffles muffled as she buried her face against Sango’s chest, tiny trembling fists clutching at the sleeves of her mother’s yukata. Miroku’s face pinched with concern as Sango sighed tiredly and rubbed Hanako’s back in slow circles, casting a sideways apologetic look toward him.

“She’s still a little attached to me, it seems.”

“Mm, understandable.” Miroku hummed distractedly, his eyes never leaving the top of Hanako’s head. Carefully, he ran his fingers down the length of her hair, settling his palm against her shoulder afterward. His voice, a gentle whisper, barely heard over the fire’s crackling. “Mother is very comforting, isn’t she?”

Sango’s breath hitched and Hanako peeked from her hiding place, teary brown eyes wrenching at Miroku’s heartstrings. 

“With her around, it’s easy to feel safe because of how strong she is and how happy she makes everyone. Right, Hanako?”

Withdrawing further from her hiding place, Hanako nodded slowly and rubbed at her eyes, enraptured with Miroku’s words. Overhead, Sango scoffed softly.

“You may be going a _little_ far.”

“I’m only telling the truth,” Miroku replied, leaning against Sango with his free arm tucked around her back and hand settled at her side. She was warm against him. Whether from body heat or sitting next to the hearth, he wasn’t sure. But it was a warmth he reveled in. Still, despite the heat of her mother’s body, Hanako trembled like a leaf. 

Sympathy welled in Miroku’s chest and he curved his fingers beneath his daughter’s chin, tipping her head up when her chin fell with barely kept sobs.

“Hanako, Father feels the same too. Going to sleep can be scary, but every time Father wakes up, Mother is always there.” Casting a sidelong glance to Sango, his wife was ever once step ahead and nodded in time to his words. Hanako’s hand falling from her eyes as she looked between them. “And every day, Father feels happy even if his dreams were scary. I _promise_ , Mother and Father will be here when you wake up and we’ll keep you safe.”

Trust was a tentative thing for someone so young and frightened. And quite humbling when given. Hanako’s hold on Sango’s yukata eased considerably until she was able to lie down with her cheek pressed to Sango’s knee, Miroku’s hand settling in her hair, patting and combing his fingers through until she dozed off. A soft humming filling the air as he sang a lullaby. One of Mushin’s old ones _thankfully_ devoid of any “wandering temptresses”.

It wasn’t long before Hanako’s small snores joined the sound of Miroku’s singing and he gradually softened his voice until he was silent. 

With a small sigh of relief, Sango smiled at him. “Thank you.”

“Anytime,” Miroku replied, easing his hand to her shoulder and giving a light squeeze. “Although, I don’t quite understand what you mean by going a little far.”

His heart fluttered as Sango leant against him, her head resting against his shoulder. “You know how you are sometimes,” she said, idly rubbing circles against Hanako’s back to keep her asleep. 

“Hm.” Pinching his chin with a feigned look of thoughtfulness, Miroku smiled at her innocently. “I’m afraid that I _don’t_ know. I was only reassuring our daughter that she was safe, and loving her mother so fiercely is justified.”

Sango balked at that, the reddening of her cheeks eye-catching in the light and Miroku lamented as she turned her head from him, divesting him of the sight. “You’re impossible,” she grumbled, lacking the bitterness and bite to her tone. 

His eyes softened and just as always, he chased after her, pressing a kiss to her shoulder then the side of her neck where he hid a smile against her skin. “I love you,” he whispered, smiling wider as she sighed fondly. 

“… I love you too.”

Easing his hand from Hanako’s head, Miroku wrapped his arms around Sango and hugged her close to him. Burying his nose against her hair and closing his eyes, allowing himself to bask in the moment for a bit longer. Sango’s lips twitched. While one hand rested on their daughter’s back, the other hooked at Miroku’s elbow in a tight hold. 

The moment passed slowly. Miroku parting from Sango with a sigh, his hands framing her face delicately. 

“I’ll put her to bed.” Miroku smiled faintly as he pressed a tender kiss to Sango’s temple then eased himself from her. 

“You don’t have to.”

Sango’s cheeks were dusted a fine shade of pink but the stubbornness in her eyes bellied the softer emotions. She was still accustomed to doing for herself and on her own, the tiny argument felt a mile away. 

Years of friendship, countless battles at one another’s side, marriage, and four wonderful children taught Miroku when to concede and when to change tactic. 

“I know I don’t.” Soft-spoken and acknowledging as the words were, it bit somewhere deep inside that he was expected not to. At least to this extent. “So, may I?”

Sango shifted carefully, and Miroku waited, accepting Hanako as she was given to him in the cradle of Sango’s arms. His daughter weighed little but the trusting way in which she curled close to his body and Sango brushed her fingers along his arms as she pulled away were something else entirely. 

“I’ll be back shortly,” Miroku promised quietly. Slowly rising to his feet with his daughter cradled against his chest, her soft murmuring and clutching at his yukata’s folds bringing a smile to his face. It wasn’t difficult to tuck her close to Chihiro, the older girl abandoning her impression of a starfish across the empty side of the futon to hold her younger sister close. 

Sentimental though it was, Miroku sat by their bedside and watched over them to make sure they were all sleeping well. Fiddling with the comforter as he tucked it over their shoulders and gently pushed small feet beneath when they were kicked out. When they were quiet and dozing, it was easy to see how small they still were. To him, they were growing like weeds but every passing day, he was reminded with how precious these moments were. 

With them - and with her.

Rising from his spot on the floor, Miroku ambled back to the other room, picking up a few logs as he went and tossing them to the fire. The flames roaring to life and dancing in the air as he settled beside Sango with his hands tucked in his lap. Taking the time to admire how she stretched her legs out, exposing the skin of her upper thigh incidentally. Her hair loose over her shoulders and eyes focused on the flames. A vision of beauty in more ways than Miroku had words.

“Everything okay?” Sango asked, tipping her head, cheek pressed against shoulder.

“Well, yes, but this has brought something to my attention…” Miroku started, tearing his gaze away from her legs. “It’s been some time since you sat in my lap.”

Sango narrowed her eyes and gave Miroku one of those withering stares that he adored. “ _Why_ has that been brought to your attention?”

“Well…”

In truth, he had been wondering how to broach the topic since the incident with the children. The night of the attack wasn’t entirely pleasant. Hanako and Isshin wept nigh inconsolably and Sango held them the entire night, forgoing sleep herself, with Hirakotsu close by and a clear view of the doorway. In some ways, the fight hadn’t ended for them and while his wife’s view of demons had changed considerably over the years, Sango’s fear of losing family had not. 

“After Naraku’s defeat, it was difficult adjusting to the changes in our lives. You were much like Hanako, unable to sleep, so I held you until you could.”

Mulling over his words for a moment, the teasing smile gradually fell and Sango’s narrowed-eyed gaze eased into attentiveness and concern. Miroku offered her a smile, equally parts reassuring as it was apologetic. 

“There were nights where you would cry out, but knowing you weren’t alone seemed to be comforting.” Miroku laid his hand against her arm comfortingly when Sango averted her gaze. “It’s why I forged traveling as I did before. You needed me here, just as _she_ feels she needs you.”

Miroku understood. Hanako and Isshin’s fears might have seemed irrational compared to what they had gone through. But Sango would never say it aloud. Or admonish them for their fears. It may have been irrational but they were afraid, and that was all that mattered. Just as Sango was afraid Naraku would rise once more, and Miroku feared the Wind Tunnel would appear in his palm and destroy the family they’d made. 

His gaze drifted to his empty palm. So often, he tried not to pat his children’s heads with it or hold their hands. Always expecting the worst and dreading when it hadn’t yet come. Miroku hadn’t realized when his hand began to tremble until Sango’s own held it still. 

“I’m glad you were there.” Sango’s hand clasped against his own and Miroku’s heart leapt into his throat. When nothing came but the warmth of her palm, he sighed and curled his fingers around her own. “And that you’re still here.”

Miroku laughed tiredly. He knew that she felt embarrassed when he spoke freely but she made it so easy. Bringing her hand to his lips, he closed his eyes until all he could make out was the shadowy silhouette of her hand. Pressing fleeting kisses to her skin, starting from the back of her hand to her knuckles then down to her wrists as he spoke.

“It’s because of you that _they_ are here. We made them together, but you carried them. Sheltered them before they entered the world. Something I could not do. In their faces, I see you, and in their strength I’m reminded of yours. To be with you is the greatest honor I could have. No road could take me to a better tomorrow than the one that leads me back to you.”

Miroku squeezed Sango’s hand, tucking it against his cheek as he looked to her adoringly. “I will stay, for you and for them,” he promised, briefly astounded by the number of promises he’d made in one night alone. 

How much of a changed man was he becoming to bind himself to his word and keep it? Nuzzling against the back of her wrist, he found he didn’t care as much. He would honor his word as if it were all he had left.

Tucking the fingers of his right hand beneath her chin, he traced the curve of her jaw carefully then tucked a lock of hair behind her ear. 

“I only ask that you find what it is that makes you as happy as you have made me.”

She settled down with him to have a family. A precious gift that he would cherish for the rest of his days. However, a fire burned in Sango’s soul. The fight was still in her and a quiet life in the village might not have been what she wanted deep down. Kohaku was still on the move with Kirara, seldom returning to the village to see her and the children. His departures were difficult on her and at a glance, Miroku could tell that it was part of Sango’s desire to be with her brother. 

And Miroku could hardly deny her of that. Not with how much she had gone through to ensure his survival and all the grief she endured. 

Pressure built in his palm, snapping him back to reality and the awareness of how close Sango was to him. “But I already have,” she said, squeezing his hand fearlessly. 

Miroku breathed in deeply. His smile grateful as he pulled his hand from her grasp, shuffling closer until he was pressed flush against her side with his arm tucked around her shoulders. Her arm resting around his back, lightly patting at his side as they held one another close.

Sango had always referenced her experience in love as little. She knew the dance of the battlefield. Where fang and sword collided in sparks. Matters of the heart were a bit harder for her to navigate. And while many of Miroku’s attempt to woo and flirt with her either fell short, were misconstrued, or taken with a grain of salt — he was happy that she was here. Grateful that despite his mishaps, she could tell his heart was true.

“Miroku?”

“Hm?”

“… Can I sit on your lap now?”

Its as difficult to catch Miroku off guard. Having four children, a rambunctious group of friends, and as much life experience as he did made surprises few and far between. This did. He stiffened up and pulled back, staring down at her with wide eyes. Sango’s gaze, shyly kept on the hearth, her face redder than before. 

“Well…?”

Miroku’s breath hitched. He stammered for a moment, temporarily flustered and unsure of what to do when Sango looked up at him curiously. Huffing a defeated breath and rubbing the back of his neck. 

“If you like…”

Her smile was too genuine for his heart and as she shifted over to settle in his lap, he tucked his arms around her waist and settled his chin against her shoulder. 

“Might I ask, what is the occasion?” 

Sango shrugged half-heartedly, settling her back against him. “I wanted to.”

“Is that so…?” Miroku glanced at her, admiring her quietly as she sat with her head tipped back and eyes closed. “Well, be it far from me to deny you.” 

Her trust weighed heavily on his soul and he would gladly carry the weight.

**Author's Note:**

> Heyo! 
> 
> This is my first fic with Miroku and Sango featured as the main characters, and I gotta say, it's pretty fun writing from Miroku's perspective. Or at least much as we can get. He has a lot of thoughts and some of them are a little complex and self-loathing. Quite frankly, I think he didn't believe he'd get this far and he'll say all the sweet things he wants to make sure his wife and children know that he cares.
> 
> As for the children, Chihiro and Yuiko are eight years old, Isshin is five years old, and Hanako is four years old.
> 
> Anyway, as per usual, you guys can find me on Twitter, Tumblr, Instagram, Tapas, and Pillowfort @unlockthelore.
> 
> Thank you so much for reading!


End file.
